


A Portian Romance: Adventurers and Architects

by SargentStadanko



Category: My Time At Portia (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargentStadanko/pseuds/SargentStadanko
Summary: When new builder Ollie develops a crush on the cute adventurer Arlo, an unexpected love rival shows up to challenge his heart.
Relationships: Arlo/Male Builder (My Time At Portia), Male Builder/Gust (My Time At Portia)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	1. The Sword

Fingers smoothed over the iron blade on his workbench, rolling the worked ore over in both hands, eyeing the hilt expertly. A skewered reflection looked back at him in the fine silver surface. It would make a great gift for Arlo. He was hoping for a, “wow, thank you, this means a lot to me” type of response from the civil corps leader and could almost picture the man smiling while he received it. Almost.  
  
Arlo didn’t smile much. Sometimes. When he was standing atop the little cliffside town, looking down on Portia and it’s citizens, that was when he softened. Ollie dreamt at least once this week that Arlo had looked at him like that. He could never remember what exactly they were doing because the piercing blue of Dream Arlo’s eyes stole the show; horseback riding, walking a forest trail, having dinner at the Round Table. Deep blue and powerful. Meeting the other man’s gaze felt like morning frost and the glint of light off sapphire gems.  
  
He couldn’t tell you when he’d started thinking of Arlo like that but now that he did it plagued his every waking moment. Seriously. He’d only arrived in Portia two months ago. He barely remembered all of the common folks’ names yet. There were plenty of interesting people that made him feel interesting things, women and men that suited his personality and his lifestyle just fine. He hadn’t come to Portia seeking a long-term commitment. He’d simply come to fulfill his father’s wish, to take over the workshop and continue the family business until he returned, that was it.  
  
He slid his own sword into the sheath across his back and slung his pack over his shoulder. He would find Arlo even if it took all day- which, sometimes it did because the man was an avid adventurer. If he wasn’t helping someone, he was taking care of his horse, Spacer, or clearing monsters in the areas surrounding the city. Ollie knew he should probably fish for supper or cut logs for his furnace today, that there were chores needing to be done before the sun began to set so he could get ahead on his work. Still, this weighed heavily on his list of priorities. The mayor’s projects could wait another day or two. He’d just work harder tomorrow, stay up late if he had to. This sword, this token of affection, it had to reach Arlo.  
  
Something pressed up against his calf and he glanced down, meowing back at the talkative pink cat who’d been following him around for the last two weeks. He’d heard most people call her Pinky, which seemed suitable, if not prescriptive, and the first time he’d found the furry four-pawed cuddle monster waiting for him at his usual fishing spot he knew they had formed a special bond. He threw bits of cooked catfish in a bowl and tucked it beneath his civil cutter on rainy days, saving full frogfish and golden salmon to share on sunny days when he heard the scrabbling of claws following after him on the bridge at Amber Island or up the hill near the Abandoned Mine. He began leaving his door open for a few extra seconds when turning in for the night lately, half expecting his friend to join him in the warm house and maybe curl up on the mattress in the corner of the room with him. It hadn’t happened yet, but he kind of hoped it would.

It seemed Pinky was in a good mood today, staying only a few feet behind him as he started up the dirt road towards Town Square. The tall stone walls extending East and West glittered in the light and as he passed beneath the welcoming arch he couldn’t help but look up and appreciate the handiwork. Most of the buildings in Portia were beautiful and sturdy. A sense of peace always washed over him when his boots touched the pavement. Portia didn’t seem to have a timeline, separate from the world beyond its borders, calm and cozy, morning and night. He knew how easily hours could be spent at the café or chatting with the shop owners that lined the streets. Children’s laughter and birdsong were Portia staples. You were safe here. You were home.  
  
Sonia waved as she approached, her yellow dress and purple hair cheerful as ever. She was wearing the seashell necklace he’d made her a few weeks ago and he grinned as she reached for a hug.  
  
“Ollie, good morning! You look so put together today.”  
“Thanks.”  
“What are you even wearing? Did Carol sew that for you? Is that custom beige leather? Oh my god, it’s so nice. Can you even afford something like that yet?”  
“Uh, jeez…”  
“It really suits your skin tone. You’ve got that olive skin, that “not from around here” look. It’s gorgeous, I’m jealous, you’d probably rock yellow better than me. Carol did an amazing job, I am living for this.”  
  
Ollie let her poke and prod at his new jacket, eyeing the others who were beginning to mull about, hoping none of them were paying much attention. Sonia was so high energy and full of praise it usually made him uncomfortable, in an okay way. It wasn’t like she saved all of that personality just for him; she was like this with everyone. It made him feel slightly better when Lee and Nora walked past, small waves and knowing smiles in their wake. 

“Anyways, nice day out, huh?” Ollie mused, hoping to change the subject.  
“Yeah. I love when the sun’s out. Summer is totally my favorite season.”  
“It’s great for crops. And it’s nice not to come home soaked.”  
“Didn’t you find a dryer recently, in the abandoned mine?”  
“A washer, and I haven’t hooked it up yet.”  
“Ah. Would’ve been nice to have dry clothes by the morning.”  
“You’re telling me…”  
“What’s that?”  
“What?”  
“In your hand. You have two swords today. Another commission?”  
“No. This is for Arlo.”  
  
“Oh?” Sonia’s voice changed and Ollie swore her eyes twinkled like stars for a moment. He felt himself wanting to take a step back, to escape whatever new, curious vibe she was giving off.  
  
“That’s for Arlo?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Did he ask for a new sword?”  
“No.”  
“So, you’re giving it to him, as a gift?”  
“Yeah. Something like that.”  
“I mean, it either is a gift or it isn’t. So, it’s probably a gift.”  
“Yeah. I guess it is. I’m giving Arlo a gift.”  
“Oh, my god,” she squealed, hands coming up to her cheeks. “Ollie. I don’t think anyone has ever given Arlo a gift before. He’s so unapproachable and… the way he dresses really makes you feel like he’s just some Flying Pigs fanboy… Like, what is that outfit supposed to be, cosplay?”  
  
When she was done making a disgusted face she glanced around the square, making sure no one was within earshot.  
  
“Wanting to join the Flying Pigs is fine, forget that part- I have never heard a girl talk about Arlo, let alone a man. This is amazing. This is the juiciest gossip of the century. I don’t even know what to say- you have to keep me informed. When did you start liking him?”  
“Sonia, whoa, whoa,” he laughed nervously, hiding the sword behind his back in both hands, awkwardly fumbling with the weight. “You are taking this the wrong way, completely.”  
“What? What other way is there to take this?”  
“We’re just friends. We’re just going to be friends. I’m not asking him to marry me or anything, calm down.”  
“Who forges an entire sword for someone they don’t want to marry?”  
“I…”  
  
He felt the thoughts in his brain beginning to jumble at the first catastrophe of the morning. Why did Sonia have to be so… like that ?  
  
“It’s normal where I’m from.”  
_Good save_ , he thought to himself.  
“People across the ocean don’t just give things to the people they want to date, we give things to anyone we admire, friendship or otherwise.”  
“What, really?”  
“Yeah, definitely. If you’re good at something you might as well share it with those you love- and like, right?”  
“I guess that makes sense…”  
“Cool. Well… I’ll see you later then.”  
  
Sonia looked distraught, confused almost, the gears turning in her head as she tried to understand his newest cultural mindfuck. He took a few steps back until she lifted her chin and smiled at him.  
  
“Yeah, see you later. I hope Arlo loves it! Or likes it, or whatever.”  
“See you.”  
  
His heart beat in his throat as he turned, high tailing it to the trail that inclined up around the side of the city, not looking over his shoulder. His neck and chest felt warm, like he was standing in front of a bonfire, and suddenly they were pressed up against a tall, wide, very solid human being.  
  
“Ho there, watch where you’re going, hey? Ollie, nice to see you. Daydreaming are we?”  
  
The deep voice of the town carpenter only added to the warmth spreading through his upper body, embarrassed that he had bumped into someone who was usually so hard to miss.  
  
“Sorry, Paulie. I was just trying to reach the trail.”  
“Heading up to the abandoned ruins today?”  
“No, I’m- yes! Yes, I am. Definitely heading to the ruins, to mine.”  
“That makes sense. Always good to bring an extra sword along, in case your first one breaks. Keep the panbats away.”  
  
Relieved that Paulie wasn’t a Sonia-esque town gossip, Ollie raised the weapon in his hands for the other builder to examine.  
  
“True. Iron is my favorite ore to work with. I can even mine crystals with these. It takes a bit longer, but the quality is hard to beat.”  
“Really? I might have to ask for some new tools then myself. Are you open to a commission?”  
“Not yet, I still have to complete Mayor Gale’s Dee Dee Transport system. I’ve nearly finished the vehicle, but I don’t want any distractions. I promise I’ll let you know when my list is open again, you’ll be first on it.”  
  
“I appreciate that, small builder Ollie.” Paulie’s chuckle seemed to stand in for a goodbye and he turned, heading across the way. Ollie watched him go, sneaking a glance at Sonia, glad to see she was preoccupied with someone new. He kept his eyes up this time, letting out a slow breath before he started his way up the dirt path. 

The Church of the Light sat atop a spire to his left. The higher he climbed up the trail the closer it came to eye level. It was cute to look at from afar, the path spiraling up and around the rock it sat on. He didn’t like being inside it much, though. Nothing against religion in general, but they believed that relics and technology were humanity’s downfall. He didn’t share that opinion.  
  
To his right, the tops of the lower buildings were coming into view. The trail wound in their direction, leading to the upper houses nestled into the cliffside. He would cut through the residences and continue up to the Civil Corps office beside Dr. Xu’s clinic. Where his house was simply made of wood and tar, these houses were distinguished and quite beautiful. Whoever had designed this city had a masterful eye for color and shape. Everywhere you looked just felt right. Everything fit into place and no matter how unique or lavish, it didn’t feel untouchable. These were just regular homes for regular folks. It was nice to think about. No class wars like back across the ocean; no ‘rich live at the top and look down at the poor’ here.  
  
Ginger, the mayor’s daughter with her long red curls, gave a shy nod as they crossed paths. Albert, one of the more pronounced city builders, had recently asked him to track down a book for her. A gift, which Ollie hadn’t thought much of at the time. Now it made sense: Albert liked Ginger. Ollie had heard rumors that Ginger was a very eligible bachelorette despite her chronic illness and her physical disabilities. Yeah, she was pretty, but Ollie didn’t see the charm. She was just like all of the other people in this town. If she couldn’t hold a sword or milk a cow she was kind of useless to him as a partner. Was that mean? Maybe, but it was honest. 

Another left, a right, a left, a right, and the top of the cliff came into view. The Civil Corps stables were full and Spacer was prancing in his stall, tied to the post loosely. Arlo was home. Why was he beginning to feel nervous? The warmth in his neck was returning.  
_Don’t think about it. Just give it to him. Go inside._  
He egged himself on and opened the front door, letting it close behind him as he took a few steps in. There was Arlo, beating on the training dummy like usual. And there was little Toby, watching him, fascinated, like usual. He held the sword flat in both hands as he approached them, smiling when Arlo’s gaze met his.  
  
“Arlo, I brought you something.”

The first time Ollie had felt physical attraction to Arlo it had been completely unexpected. It wasn’t like Arlo hadn’t been a specimen since they’d first met. He was built, he was a great martial artist and fighter, and he protected the city and beyond without asking for much in return. A great guy all around. The infamous bandit brothers, Huss and Tuss, had tried to make Ollie believe that his father owed them a great debt of around 50,000 gols. They wanted it by Sunday, the following week, or there’d be hell to pay. Arlo had them pegged as soon as he heard about the “debt collectors.” He promised to be there Sunday morning to put those two in their place and chase them out of town for good.  
  
Sure enough, Sunday morning rolled around and Huss and Tuss demanded their money. Arlo came out from around the side of the house, all arms crossed and intimidating looking. He had walked up to and just past Ollie, as if to shield him. Something about those broad shoulders, that act of safekeeping, the feeling that Arlo could defend them both from anything… It was then Ollie was acutely aware that his head would rest perfectly against Arlo’s chest and neck if he pulled him in for a hug. Those biceps, thick around as his own thighs, would wrap around him and hold him close. It was likely true too that the older man could best him in a wrestling match and pin him down- it would be in the grass while it was raining and their clothes clung to their skin, just after they’d just finished beating back a herd of Illusion Rabbits over the hill by the docks. Swords would swing in sync, back to back or side to side, able to find each other on the battlefield and in the dark, as if their souls had collided…  
  
By the time he’d realized where his mind had gone Arlo was off and running after the bandits, yelling that they better not let him catch them or they’d be in the dungeons for good. 

He hadn’t really seen Arlo since then, not that much time had passed. The piercing eyes from his dreams were in front of him though and he felt tongue-tied, lost in their blue frost and their mystery. 

“Ollie?”  
“Huh?”  
“You okay?”  
“Yeah, why?”  
“You’ve just been, staring at me… for a while.”  
“I’m sorry, I just- I meant to give you this.”  
“Mmhmm.”

He was so stoic. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. It was obvious he was intelligent. It was obvious the expressionless mask was just a tool he used for his line of work. At any given moment he was likely predicting, assessing, planning. Ollie raised his hands higher, presenting the blade.

“You mean to give this to me?”  
“Yes, if you’ll take it.”

A small gasp to his right revealed Toby, all blonde hair and blue eyes, on his tip toes to examine the sword with delight. His little hands reached up and touched it, leaving fingerprints along its polished surface that made Ollie’s jaw tighten and his nostrils twitch. Really? It had looked flawless… it was supposed to be flawless…

“I’ll take it.”  
  
Ollie looked up, catching the tail end of Arlo’s smile. The quirk of his lips at the corners remained and Ollie felt the breath leave him like a punch to the gut.  
  
“You will?” he managed, trying to ignore the feelings fluctuating throughout him, the butterflies and the warmth and the general discombobulation.  
“It’s a fine sword. I really appreciate it. I’ll use it.”  
“Thank you! I mean, I hope you like it. I hope it works well for you.”  
  
Arlo chuckled as he gently took the weapon and hefted it once into his sword hand, blinking at it. After a few seconds he turned it, looking it up and down again.  
  
“What made you gift me something of such value?”  
  
The heat in his chest quickly turned to ice, tendrils of uncertainty and embarrassment reaching for all of his limbs. Did he think this was too much? Did he not like it? He didn’t seem to be smiling anymore, it was more of a grimace. Oh man, he looked uncomfortable. Or, maybe he just looked, normal? It was so hard to tell…  
  
“Oh, it’s nothing. I had spare ore lying around and I just thought, might as well put it to use.” His hand lifted to his face and he brushed his chin awkwardly, unsure what to do with himself.  
“Do you make swords for everyone?”  
“No,” he scoffed gently, “no way. Do you know how much time that would take? How many hours it takes to find and mine iron from the ruins for just one sword?”  
“If you have so much ore lying around, surely it wouldn’t be a problem though, no?”  
  
As soon as he said it he felt stuck, lips parted as he tried to find a way to take it back. Of course he’d specifically mined to make a sword for Arlo, had slaved over the furnace to forge it, and now it was obvious. The embarrassment factor was rising rapidly.  
  
And Arlo was smiling.  
  
Smirking, more like it. Looking down at him knowingly. Fondly. He knew. He wasn’t dumb, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how much effort had been put into this whole thing. Ollie tried to laugh but it came out as a nervous sigh, hammering his heart even higher in his throat. He couldn’t speak, didn’t know what to do with his hands, didn’t know where he was supposed to look or-  
  
“Can you make me a sword too, Ollie?”  
Toby stared up at him, standing right in front of Arlo, only belly button high. Startled, Ollie looked between the two of him, devastated that his moment with the Civil Corps leader had been ruined. Wasn’t the kid supposed to be in school or something? Ugh.  
  
“Thanks, Ollie.”  
Arlo pushed the blonde head of hair playfully, steering Toby back towards the training dummy with the aura of a gentle big brother.  
“I like it.”

He stood and watched the two of them return to their previous activity, rooted to the spot. Had that all just happened? Arlo, the smile, the roller coaster of emotion? Taking a few steps backwards he felt around for the door, finding the handle, pulling it open so he could slip out sideways. It was still midday, the sun was high in the sky. I like it. Arlo’s voice had been too smooth, perfectly pitched, musical. That was incredible. The rush of adrenaline, the fear, the nerves, the sheer tension. The clouds were skirting across the vast blue and Ollie swore he could reach out and touch them. On top of the world, truly- he had to release some of this energy or he would explode.


	2. Unexpected Gust

No, Sonia had not let him live this down. Although her daydreams were milder than he’d expected, she’d been unable to picture gift giving as meaning anything other than, ‘I want to have your babies’. Every day when he passed through town square she was there, hands clasped together, a glint in her eyes. Sometimes he wished he could veer off course, start the day out somewhere else. Unfortunately, she worked at the Round Table and the Round Table was smack in the centre of morning business. 

The bell above the door to A&G Construction rang as he entered and the man at the back lifted his head, dirty-blonde hair touching between his shoulder blades. An eloquent braid pulled some of the hair back from his face, but the masculine jaw and pointed green eyes dared anyone to say something. As he stood and turned, Ollie let his bag fall from his shoulder, kneeling beside it.

“Ollie, good morning.”  
“Good morning, Gust.”  
“You’ve become quite the regular around here. I’ve seen your face more often than my business partner’s in the last two weeks. Funny that.”  
“Albert’s not been around?”  
“Oh, he’s been around, when he feels like dropping by.”

Ollie lifted a heavy, blue book into the air, a hand cupping either side delicately. He blew on the cover.

“I brought you another relic. A book. I believe it says, ‘Aesthetics and Structural Design’. Seems like something you’d be into.”

Gust approached him curiously, watching him with the air of a king burdened by a peasant. When he took the book he opened it and flipped through a few pages, leaning against the desk next to him. 

“Wow. I appreciate this. An exquisite volume.”  
“Anytime.”  
“You know, Ollie,” Gust mused as he brushed a finger over some of the inked words. “I’m not a fool.” 

Ollie slowly lifted himself from the ground, looking up at the other man quizzically.

“This is the seventh book I’ve received from you since you arrived. This is at least the fiftieth token of friendship. While many of the other, ‘things’, you gave me missed the mark, you’ve really stepped it up lately. I can tell you’ve been thinking of me, getting to know me, hanging on my every word.”

While many might say that Gust was a cocky, insensitive, starved artist who enjoyed bullying others, he wasn’t wrong here. The tone was both amused and uncaring all at once. Ollie swallowed thickly, unsure if he was supposed to answer in the silence that followed, watching Gust examine the text.

“Okay. You want to know me so well? Invite me out.”  
“Wh-what?”

The book snapped shut and hit the desk and suddenly Gust was standing at his full height, arms crossed, smiling down at him playfully.

“Invite me out.”  
“Like, for a walk?”  
“You want to take me for a walk?” Gust asked, his lip curling upwards slightly, an eyebrow raised in disappointment.  
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you-“  
“Ask me out, Ollie. The Round Table. Amber Island. Take me somewhere that sparks the soul and I will tell you more about what makes me tick.”

Ollie squared his shoulders, trying to push back against Gust’s powerful presence.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll… uh…” 

He felt his eyes dropping, forcing himself to raise them again.

“Hey Gust, would you like to go out with me?”  
“Oh? Where to, dearest Ollie?”  
“I was thinking we could meet here, Peach Plaza. Mm, say two o’clock tomorrow for lunch at the Round Table. My treat.” 

Gust’s face lit up and Ollie let out a breath, surprised he’d even been holding one.

“Of course. I would love to. Two o’clock? I shall meet you by the fountain. Thanks again, for the book. You’re fantastic.”

That was that. Gust winked at him with all of the playboy calm he was known for, never looked back once as he headed for his work again. Ollie kind of liked that. The man was focused and driven, a self-starter and team player with a penchant for getting what he wanted. Who didn’t like a charmer? Who could _really_ say they were immune to the mayor’s son and his sharp wit?

This place was changing him. Kind of. Since when had he spent hours crafting things to give to other people and enjoyed himself? Probably never. It wasn’t like he’d never had friends before or made things for his mom and sisters on holidays. He was a creative person and an innovator. 

Lately though, he’d found that creating was tied to a deep desire of _knowing_. Shell necklaces for Sonia because he’d overheard her telling Django how much she wanted one. A new sofa for Petra that he’d dragged out of the abandoned ruins at one in the morning on a Tuesday. A new bookshelf for Isaac. Baked bread for Martha. There was inherently more value to figuring people out and giving them things that mattered to them than just dropping fancy items in their hands when it was time to celebrate. It made Ollie feel like he was part of the community when others waved at him and invited him over to chat. Many people had given his first few gifts a questioning glance, and Ollie now understood it was likely an interpretation they shared with Sonia.  
He was glad they had continued to accept his tidings. Hopefully his consistency proved to most that he was just a giver, plain and simple.

This one was different though, holding a similar level of importance to Arlo’s iron sword. He’d dyed the waterproof fabric a soft pink, white trim along the edges. Urchin spines and a hand carved pole pushed the umbrella up and open, tiny springs and notches clicking into place. It fit in his backpack enough that only the handle was visible through the flap. Chores done and the furnaces working, he headed out to the main road, Peach Plaza in sight.

“Ollie,” came the warm greeting as he approached. “You’re early.”  
“Better than being late.”  
“Much.” Gust held out an arm, bent, offering for Ollie to take it. “Come then. The Round Table?”

Ollie intertwined their arms, thinking about how this was what it would feel like to be beside Arlo. Both men were apparently the same height, but the redhead was much sturdier than the blonde architect, and although Ollie could feel Gust’s decent-sized biceps beneath his fingers, the feeling he gave him wasn’t protective and gentle. It was like holding a snake or befriending a leopard: exciting at first, but one wrong move and… who really knew? 

“Ah, Django.”  
“Gust, Ollie. What could this be? A date?”  
“No,” Ollie retorted quickly, but Gust held up a hand.  
“We’re just two friends getting to know each other a little more, intimately. Do you have a table?”  
“For you? Of course. By the window, I’ll be right by with menus. Please,” Django ushered them inside, gesturing to their seats. Once seated, Ollie removed his bag, only slightly surprised when Gust’s suit jacket stayed on. 

“Sonia must be on break,” he said with a glance around the room, calmed by the prospect. Having a nosy waitress would have made this a disaster.  
“Are you two friends?”  
“I’d say so. I see her every morning on my way into town. She’s a nice lady.”  
“’A nice lady.’ Ha. Yeah, you’re friends for sure.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, if you were interested in her you wouldn’t go with, ‘a nice lady’. You’re honest, Ollie. Easy to read.”  
“Well, thanks?”  
“Don’t mention it. Django, the menus, thank you.”  
“Will it be your usual?”  
“We’ll need a minute today.”  
“Take your time.”

The restaurant owner gave them a knowing tilt of his head as he left.

“I prefer the baked rice with chicken curry and a tall glass of apricot juice. Yourself?”

Ollie scanned the black menu.

“I think… I’ll go with mushrooms, in oyster sauce, and an apple juice.”  
“Mm, cultured. Good choices.”

The younger man could feel Gust’s eyes on him and he found it harder and harder to put the pamphlet down, pretending to find it very interesting while the other examined him. When Django came to retrieve their orders he was relieved to be able to look elsewhere, even managing a smile. When he left, Gust cleared his throat, grabbing Ollie’s attention again.

“So, what do you want to know about me?”

The blonde leaned back in his booth seat, arms sliding along the backrest comfortably.

“Everything, I suppose. Your father and your sister seem interesting. Your job. Your friends.”  
“If you mean Albert, he isn’t my friend.”  
“But you do business together…?”  
“A decision I question more and more every day.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that.”  
“Don’t be. Such is life. We work wonderfully together, but I care not for his… laziness and his constant friendliness. It doesn’t feel…”  
“Honest?” Ollie offered when he realized Gust was searching for a word.  
“Honest,” Gust repeated with a fond smirk, wetting his lips as he let that settle in. “Again, that’s why I like you. You’re honest.”  
“I think most of Portia’s folks are honest.”  
“I suppose, but they aren’t interesting. I’ve known these people my entire life. Their honesty is boring. It’s simple. It’s the difference between knowing how ‘passion’ is spelt and knowing how to use it in a sentence.”  
“They’re not so bad.”  
“You’re new here. You’ll see.”  
“What about your sister? Is she honest?”  
“Ginger? Honest?” Pale fingers raised a glass of water to his mouth but he hesitated to drink, eyeing the far wall as he thought. “I suppose.”  
“I’ll admit, I’d expected you to say yes.”  
“To just say yes? Ollie, come now, I’m more thoughtful than that.”  
“I agree.”  
“Ginger is honest, but she is… trapped. She is locked inside of a fantasy, wishing she could come outside and smell the flowers without someone watching over her shoulder.”  
“Is your father that domineering?”  
“What? No, my sister is just too frail. She gets sick so easily, and not one of us want to be the cause of it.”  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”  
“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. She was born with a compromised immune-system. We’ve been dealing with it since forever. It’s our normal.”  
“A good way to look at it.”  
“The only way to look at it.”

Ollie felt the heaviness of the topic weighing on them and a few seconds passed before he reached into his bag and fished around for Gust’s gift. When he slid the umbrella out of its sheath and procured it across the table, the other man gave him an odd look.

“Is that, for me?”  
“Yes.”  
“A pink umbrella?”  
“Why not?”  
“I see.” He took it, spinning it over, his fingers patting at the fabric and visible springs gently. “This is really nice of you.”  
“I have a feeling you don’t like something about it.”  
“Well, the color, for one.”  
“You don’t like the color pink?”  
“Doesn’t it seem… how do I put this… effeminate?”

Ollie leaned his forearms on the table, clamping his hands together.

“I had no idea you were so afraid of what others thought of you.”  
“I’m not.”  
“Then, why does it matter if it’s pink?”  
“Because this would be better suited for my sister.”  
“Then give it back and I will make sure she receives it.”

More silence. Gust was staring at him, hard. Just when Ollie felt like he would break, the blonde leaned the present on the bench beside him.

“That’s what I like about you.”  
“What?”  
“You don’t crack under pressure. It’s thrilling. You’re right, as well: who cares what anyone thinks. If they say one word of it I will make sure to give them something to remember me by.”  
“Just tell them I made it for you and you didn’t want to hurt my feelings so you carry it around with you.”  
“Oh but Ollie, that would be lying, and we know how I feel about honesty.”  
“I’m flattered, Gust. Thank you.”  
“No, thank you. It’s gorgeous craftsmanship. I admire your talent. As a fellow artist I commend your creativity, your ingenuity.”  
“Is that sarcasm?”  
“No, that is a legitimate compliment! You’re an inspiration.”  
“This sounds like sarcasm.”  
“What? I- no…” The words trailed off and Gust’s expression fell. “I-“  
  
“Lunch is served, my boys. Mushrooms for our hardworking farmer and rice for the businessman. Let me know if you need anything, yes?” Django mused as he dropped the cups, plates, and cutlery in front of them, giving a small bow before he backed away and out of sight.

“I’m sorry. I was just poking fun. I know you were being serious.” Ollie tried to catch Gust’s eye but the other man was fixated on his plate, raising a small fork of rice to his mouth. When he’d chewed and swallowed he rested his fist against the edge of the table.  
“Ollie?”

Feeling concerned he stopped mid-bite, lowering his food so he could answer, “yes?”

“I don’t mean to be misleading. I find you… mm…”  
“Inspirational?”  
“Adorable.”

Ollie sat up slightly, slowly, caught off guard. 

“Gust…”  
“Take it how you will,” Gust said, raising both hands as if to surrender. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. I told Django that we were only friends.”  
“Yeah, who were looking to know each other more intimately.”  
“Does that bother you?”  
“No… I- well…”  
“Then think on it. What would be the harm?” 

He couldn’t answer. Not even three sips of apple juice could clear the dry feeling in his throat.

“Well then, shall we?” The blonde continued eating, motioning with his chin at Ollie’s plate, smiling at him through a forkful of rice. Ollie followed suit, happy to drop the subject, digging into his vegetables vigorously. 


	3. A Man Can Dream

“Pinky, I’m so confused.”

Ollie’s fingers tugged at the cat’s tail gently, hoping she’d come closer.

“I had no idea Gust felt this way about me.”

The clock on the wall showed it was nearly two thirty in the morning. His back ached against the cold hardwood and he sighed. He’d spent much of the day contemplating his new situation and it didn’t feel like sleep was going to fix anything; if he slept he wouldn’t be able to think on it more, he was wasting precious time to come up with an answer for the ginger businessman. He slowly pushed himself up and dredged over to his bed. The blankets were warm and Pinky was curled up against him soon after, her purr soothing. 

“There are chores to do in the morning, I need to rest. Still, my mind goes to Arlo before I sleep, and you know what Pinky? It’s nothing like people would expect. Sonia probably thinks I dream of Arlo and it’s all romance, marriage and kids, owning a business together.”

It felt nice to finally be petting her. Cats were such calming little companions.

“If that stuff happens one day, then fine, I suppose that was just the journey we were meant to take. What I really want is to adventure with him. I just want to be near him. I want to travel deep into the unknowns around Portia with him. I want to watch him practice with his sword after dinner and maybe be offered to join. I want to be there when he decides to bathe in the river before bed. Does that make sense?”

Pinky’s purring was rhythmic. He felt it beneath his fingertips.

“I don’t know what that is. I am attracted to Arlo. Gust though? He’s incredibly pretty, ridiculously smart, and about as ready to survive in the wilderness as a Portian housewife. What do we have in common? How can he be so interested in me? What if Arlo thinks of me as the un-survivable Portian housewife? What if this is some weird triangle of attraction and nobody quite matches up where they’re supposed to? Gah, Pinky, I’m so confused.”  
“Mrow.”  
“Yes, mrow. Men are too distracting. I know, I should sleep.”

A warm cat nose nudged itself under his chin and he cuddled against her, sighing. 

___

Despite sleeping so late, Ollie woke up feeling energized. He rolled out of bed, tugged his work boots on, and pushed the front door open into the pouring rain. The sheep and cows were huddled beneath the stable roof; they didn’t move when he opened the gate and began filling their feeding trough with freshly picked mushrooms and plant fibers. He had just begun humming a tune to himself when he heard a _good morning_ from the path beside his property fence. It was Gust, all navy-blue business suit and pink umbrella, hair pulled back as usual. He looked quite out of place in the mud, his brown shoes obviously soaked through. He was smiling though, and Ollie approached him, wiping rain from his forehead.

“Gust, good morning.”  
“Don’t worry, I’m not here for any real reason. I wanted to know if you’re free later, for tea.”

Ollie leaned against the wooden fence, his toe bouncing up and down on the wet soil. He had planned to work hard today, sow the planter boxes, brush the sheep, forge steel plates, and go fishing. There wasn’t much time for tea, unless Gust wanted to drink from a to-go cup by the river.

“I… I can’t. Er, I shouldn’t. Too much choring to do today.”  
“I see. Don’t worry, I understand. I admire your work ethic.”  
“And I admire your bravery. The rain can’t be good for your attire.”  
“Oh, come now. As if a little rain could stop me.”  
“Do you walk around in the mud often then?”  
“Well, no.”  
“Hopefully you have a change of clothes at the office.”  
“And what if I do?”  
“Oh nothing.”  
“Are you making fun of me?”  
“No, definitely not.”

Gust’s smile was crooked as he examined Ollie’s face, visually uncertain about the truth.

“Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”  
“If I’m being honest, I won’t change my mind.”  
“A man can dream, I suppose.”

Gust gave him a last look before he turned and began heading down the path towards the city square and its big welcome arch. He was picking his way through the puddles and the dirt, walking slowly, keeping his shoulders and head up as if to prove he wasn’t having trouble at all. Ollie watched him go for a while before he finally pushed himself up and returned to the troughs. It was rather endearing to see the prissy man ‘roughing it’ out just to say hello. There was no way he would have done that for just anyone… and now that he had told Ollie about his affections, how far would he go to have them returned? 

Two more days went by before Ollie found himself with free time. His efforts had restocked his food and crafting supplies for at least a week; he could take a day to relax and do something fun. While all of him wanted to visit the townsfolk and divvy out gifts, a new desire tugged at his mind until he gave in. It was Friday, Gust would be in his office today.  
It only took ten minutes to reach the front door of A & G Construction and the bell rang as he entered, turning two heads. At the back sat Gust, his normal scowl quickly becoming a grin as their eyes met. To his left stood Albert, drawing his attention by raising his hands in welcome, taking a few steps forward.

“Ollie, good morning! What can I do you for?”  
“I doubt he’s here for construction blueprints today, actually,” Gust interrupted, joining the two of them near the front desk.  
“I’m not, not today- although I have been saving for a house upgrade, Albert.”  
“I’ll keep that in mind. Will you be needing many materials? Or will you be providing them?”  
“Providing them.”  
“Of course. So reliable, Ollie.”  
“Isn’t he?” Gust added. Ollie glanced at him, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the new praise.  
“Well, what were you here for, then?” Albert continued.  
“To find out if Gust is busy. I’d love a cup of tea, if you have time.”  
“It’s a little early for a break-“  
“I have time,” Gust cut in swiftly. “Let me grab my jacket.”

Albert watched the blonde strut to his desk, side-eyeing Ollie for a moment before he turned to him, lips pursed in thought. Before he could ask a single question, Gust had returned and was dragging Ollie through the front door, throwing a “goodbye, Albert,” over his shoulder.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Ollie asked when they had hit the pavement.  
“Of course it is. Don’t worry about it.”  
“Alright.”  
“Where to? The Round Table? Or Martha’s Bakery further down? It’s late morning, her baked bread would still be fresh.”  
“Breakfast, that sounds great. I forgot that this morning.”  
“I didn’t, but I don’t mind second breakfast. Come then.”

Gust offered his arm for Ollie to take again as they walked. Not wanting to be rude, he took it. The discomfort from before had returned and his chest tightened the closer they got to the storefront. Gust was a gentleman, for the most part, and perhaps it wouldn’t seem abnormal for him to traipse around town with a man on his arm. Still, it was abnormal to Ollie and he began to wish he’d kept a little more distance. It was as though they’d walked a red carpet, eyes scanning them up and down, whispers and critique from friends and villagers on both sides. He pretended to be deep in conversation with the other man, listening intently as Gust began talking about a recent building design for the Eastern end of Portia.

“Of course, this would have to pass my father’s desk, and require Presley’s approval. I doubt there would be much trouble there, however. They would ask you to participate with the other builders once it became a blueprint. Imagine having your name on the papers, Ollie. You would be solidified in history. No one would forget you.”  
“That’s… interesting.”  
“You okay?”  
“Of course. Look, Martha has a table available outside, let’s hurry before someone grabs it.”  
“Sure.”

Ollie was grateful to take a seat and be on his own again, the warmth of Gust’s arm under his, gone. The blonde was leaning back in his seat, throwing charming greetings to everyone within earshot. Martha approached them, her apron pulled slightly to one side, a loose lock of orange hanging in front of her eye. She brushed it out of her line of sight, letting out a defeated sigh when it fell back in place.

“Boys,” was her only greeting. Ollie felt his eyebrows tightening as he tried to read her expression.  
“Morning, Martha. Ollie and I were hoping for some of your famous baked bread and a nice warm cup of milk tea.”

She lowered the pen and paper in her hands to her hips, knuckles against the pattern of her skirt.

“I hate to disappoint any of my customers, but baked bread isn’t on the menu today and quite frankly, I don’t know when it will be again.”  
“What? Are you retiring the recipe?”  
“Goodness no, that’s my pride and joy right there. Sadly, my oven has just… up and stopped working. This morning when I turned it on my house filled up with black smoke and I had to carry a sleeping Toby from his bed, down the stairs, and out into the cold. He didn’t complain but I know he’s going to struggle at school today, the poor dear. It was only four-thirty am, he usually sleeps until seven.”  
  
“I see,” Gust murmured, watching her sympathetically. Ollie waited a few seconds for more, but the other man seemed to be finished.  
  
“Martha, that’s terrible. I can’t imagine having to deal with that; you’re a great mother, and an excellent businesswoman.”  
“Am I, Ollie? It’s hard to believe that right now.”

Ollie stood up slowly, clasping his hands together.

“You are, believe me. Baking and rescuing children are certainly talents of yours. Ovens are one of mine. Would you let me take a look?”  
“You’d do that?” she asked, raising the paper pad to her face so she could peek over it with wide eyes. Gust chuckled, lifting himself from his seat as well.  
“Of course he would, Ollie would always help a friend in need.”  
“Thank you so much. It’s this way.” 

She led them inside, pointing across the kitchen at the appliance. There was a long pipe that curved out of the wall and a stack of charred wood peeking out between the black metal doors. Ollie walked over to it, rolling his sleeves once or twice as he began scrutinizing the craftsmanship. Very quickly it became apparent why the smoke wasn’t being evacuated outside: there was a deep crack at the back and a pile of ash against the wall.

“Well, the good news is you need a new oven, but we can salvage the chimney.”  
“Oh, that’s great news,” Gust chimed in cheerily. Martha didn’t seem so sure.  
“Ollie, how much would something like that cost?”

He stood up straight, tapping his knuckles against his lower lip, looking around the room.

“For the materials and the time involved, I’d quote you at about… fifteen hundred gols.”  
“Fifteen hundred gols. Goodness…”  
“Really now, Ollie?” Gust mused, crossing his arms, a smug look on his face. “For this hard-working, life-saving Portian woman, you couldn’t go any lower?”

Ollie shot him a disgruntled look and Gust’s smile quickly faded.

“Of course I can, and I was going to offer. You’re a great friend, Martha, and this oven is important for your business. I appreciate your food and your weekly company, I know how much you do for our town. I hope you’ll accept a discount this time. I have some scrap metal I can work with and a new furnace that has made my life a lot easier. Would you consider five hundred gols and a fresh loaf of baked bread after it’s installed?”

Both Martha and Gust’s head snapped up at the price.

“Ollie, that’s a steep discount,” the blonde said with a nervous chuckle.  
“Yes, Ollie, that’s too much to ask, I couldn’t accept that.”  
“Alright. How about this then: I’ll get started and once it’s installed, you can pay me what you think I’m owed.”  
“That is… quite kind of you,” Gust murmured as he followed him out to the front street, the three of them meeting again in silence on the cobblestone.

“Ollie, I don’t know what to say. I need this oven, or else I can’t make a living, but-“  
“I’ll see you soon, Martha. I’ll let you know when it’s ready, okay?”  
“O-okay. Yes. Thank you, I’ll see you soon.”

He began walking back the way they came, happy when Gust stuffed his hands into his dress pant pockets.

“From a business perspective, that was a terrible decision,” Gust began, staring straight ahead. “Giving people such absurd pricing isn’t going to pay the rent or put food on the table.”  
“I don’t tend to pay for either of those things,” he retorted, reaching up to tighten his own dreadlocked ponytail. “Martha needs help, that was an emergency. If she had been saving for a new stove for months I would never have gone so low.”  
“You know what I mean. You have your own upgrades you’re saving for, you deserve to be paid fairly.”  
“Well, when you come to me for a project, I’ll be sure to charge you top dollar.”  
“And I’ll be sure to pay you every cent.”

Gust’s tone lightened then and Ollie dared a glance at him, relieved to see him somewhat smiling. He relaxed, rolling his shoulders back, aware that money was a topic Gust seemed very _passionate_ about.

“I need a few things for this. New piping and anything else I can find. I’m going to head to the abandoned mine, did you want to join?”  
“Mining? Do I look the type?” Gust scoffed.  
“Not really. I suppose you’ll return to work then.”  
“Yes, I suppose. Will you walk me there?”  
“Sure.”

Although it was only another ten-minute walk, the conversation was spotty and dull. Their elbows bumped once and they both responded by moving over a foot, an awkward space between them until they arrived at A & G’s front door.

“Well, I’m sorry you didn’t get to eat breakfast.”  
“That’s okay. I’ve got some beef jerky in my bag, I’ll survive.”  
“Can I make it up to you?”  
“It’s not really necessary.”  
“Come for tea at my place next time.”  
“Your place? With your dad and sister?”  
“Does that bother you?”  
“Do you have friends over often?”  
“Well, no, but…”

Ollie searched for the words to change the subject but didn’t want to seem rude for ignoring the request, swallowing thickly.

“You like my honesty, right?”  
“Yes,” Gust nodded, brightening up.  
“I don’t want to have tea at your place. If we’re going to have tea, I’d prefer it was simple and… friendly. Perhaps pull up a chair by your desk or, I could brew us up a cup and we could sit on the hay bales near my shed.”  
“I see.”  
“Then, think on it. What would be the harm?” Ollie mused cheekily, repeating Gust’s own words from their last hangout at the Round Table. The blonde man’s lips parted but he didn’t speak, his mouth turning up at the corners as Ollie took a few steps backwards and then turned, heading for the dirt path. By the time he reached it he had gone over their interaction in his head at least twice, his palms sweaty and tongue dry. Thank the deities they had ended on a good note, because things had been turning sour against his will, and disagreeing with Gust sounded terrible. 

“Ollie!”

He had just arrived at the mine entrance when the voice caused him to swivel. He couldn’t wet his mouth enough to speak, staring at the ginger adventurer who’d nearly snuck up on him. 

“You heading into the mine, too?”  
“Arlo, y-yeah. Yeah. I was going to spend a few hours here. Searching for some piping.”  
“Ahh, that’s brilliant. I’ll join you.”

Ollie felt his eyebrows raising and his hands gripped the straps of his backpack a little tighter.

“Like, together?”  
“Well, yes. Unless you’d prefer to be alone, I would understand.”  
“No! No, let’s go,” he urged, hoping he hadn’t ruined his chance to spend time with the older man.  
“After you, then.”


	4. Work Face

Ollie removed his backpack as they entered the mine, unlatching his pickaxe from it. The air was cooler in the dark and the sound of water dripping in the distance resonated around them, providing an eerie atmosphere for their mining session. 

“Nice day today,” Arlo chatted as they made their way towards the edge of the entrance platform, hands resting on his hips. Ollie pictured him at the top of the town again, surveying all that lived below like some strong-jawed, broad-chested hero.

“Better than that rain a few days ago,” he agreed.  
“Ahh, but even summer needs a bit of rain.”  
“Good for the crops.”

“Good for the crops,” Arlo repeated, nodding his head. Ollie knelt close to him, trying to pick a good starting spot with his intuition. Something was telling him north-west from his position was the pipe fitting jackpot. “What are you searching for today?” the redhead continued, still examining the horizon when the smaller builder looked up at him.

“Pipe. And copper.”  
“Pipe and copper,” Arlo mused quietly, his voice soft and low, capturing Ollie’s attention in a way that made his heart flutter. Having a crush was apparently quite hard; everything the other did was brain fodder for imaginative fantasies and even less likely daydreams. That voice was commanding, which was endearing on the daily but borderline sexy in other contexts.

“And you? What did you come here for?”  
“Eh, to be honest, I just saw you on my way up the hill. I’ve nothing to do, so, here we are.”

Ollie blinked a few times when their eyes met, gathering his bearings. Arlo was looking down at him with an expression that was at ease but, with _pipe and copper_ replaying in his head, seemed to become more and more playful. 

“You don’t have to stay. It was nice of you, but I wouldn’t want to hold you hostage.”  
“Nonsense,” Arlo said with a wave of a hand. “You can work, and I can play. A fair trade-off.”  
“If you could call any of this, _play_.”  
“What? Spending time with you and learning all of your well-kept secrets isn’t play?”  
“Not to normal people.”  
“Consider me not-normal, then.”  
“Considered,” Ollie said after a moment of thought, smiling. Arlo seemed more animated than usual. Perhaps it was the protection of the cave.  
“Lead the way, I’ll follow.”

Ollie fumbled his way off of the cliff, landing a few feet down steadily. He moved out of the way so Arlo could catch up and then headed north-west, making sure he could hear the other man’s footsteps nearby. He stopped when it felt right, glancing up at the ceiling and around at the walls to make sure he had room to swing. 

“You’re very meticulous,” Arlo pointed out, arms crossed.  
“Really?”  
“It seems so.”  
“I feel like a mess, but thanks. I appreciate it.”

He raised the tool above his head and struck down, enjoying the loud _ping_ as metal hit ore. 

“Great swing, too. Very practiced.”  
Ollie felt his face squish a little, his eyebrows tightening with discomfort. He hadn’t expected to be critiqued so quickly. He swung again, feeling his back muscles beginning to activate.

“You know, it’s interesting. I’ve known you a while now, and yet, here I am, learning that you’re quite the athlete.”  
“Because I can mine?”  
“Yes. Your stamina must be great. You haven’t shown any weakness in your form, and you said before you intended to spend hours here. You should join me and the others one morning for a jog. I wonder how you’d do.”

Ollie chuckled, swinging again.

“There’s a big difference between mining cardio and long-distance running cardio.”  
“Of course. It’s the same reason one should lift weights and swim, or flip tires and climb stairs. Sam and I like to switch off every week, keeps things interesting.”  
“I can’t say I’m a big fan of group workouts.”  
“But you’d be okay with some one-on-one time?”

Ollie swung again, leaving the axe tip against the ground. If he worked out with Arlo, he’d be one step closer to adventuring with him. If he could keep up and prove himself, maybe getting to see a dripping wet, river Arlo was closer than expected. Did Arlo swim fully clothed?

“Uhm… Yeah. Definitely.”  
“Why’d you stop?”  
“Oh? Ha-I- yeah, we should totally work out together.”

He dropped his gaze again and continued swinging. It was about the hour mark before he found what he was looking for: two feet of pipe bent at a ninety-degree angle and just wide enough to fit his fist through. It took him ten minutes to dig out, answering all of Arlo’s questions as he worked.

“So, you have two sisters, an aunt Kendra, a father out on adventures, and a late mother, may she rest in peace.”  
“Yeah, although I’m not sure Pa knows about my sisters.”  
“Ooh, scandalous.”  
“Very. Can’t blame my mother, much. When someone isn’t around all the time, it must be lonely.”  
“Oh, you mean, your dad isn’t also your sisters’ dad.”  
“I’m actually, not sure. Ma said he is, but I’m older now and… the timelines just don’t add up.”  
“Got it.”

As he strapped his pickaxe to his bag he shook his head, standing up to shoulder the pack before picking up the pipe. 

“I don’t think about them much. My sisters, sure, they were just kids, they didn’t do anything wrong. The rest, though? I like to leave it behind.”

“I see,” Arlo hummed, giving Ollie a once over. “I won’t prod. Do you need a hand?”

“With this? It’s two feet of metal, I think I’ll be fine.”  
“I meant the copper in your bag. Add to that your pickaxe and the sword at your side. You seem over-encumbered.”  
“I hardly feel it.”  
“You’re joking.”

“You don’t believe me? Here,” Ollie said as he took everything off and handed it to the redhead, giving him time to put it on. When Arlo was properly saddled up he rolled his shoulders, hefting the pipe in his hands.

“You’re stronger than you look.”  
“It’s not that heavy.”  
“Not to me, but you’re half my size.”  
“I’m at least three quarters your size.”  
“Oh really? Want to compare? If I can wrap my hand around your arm, you lose.”  
“That’s not fair, you have gigantic hands.”

“Do I?” Arlo asked as he held one up to examine.

“Well, they’re bigger than mine.”  
“How do you even know? Come here,” he urged as he turned the hand to Ollie, palm forward. Ollie hesitated, then approached him, pressing his hand against the other’s. The tips of Arlo’s fingers towered over. 

“It’s settled. I’m bigger, so I get to make the rules.”

Ollie was suddenly acutely aware that their fingers were touching. He pulled away, meeting the taller man’s gaze. Even in the shadows of the mine his eyes were the same bright, serious blue. It had only been ten seconds and he was already picturing Arlo repeating that phrase in his _pipe and copper_ voice, reaching out to grab his collar and pull him close-

“I’m gonna walk you home.”

Ollie clapped his hands together, turning around, forcefully snapping himself out of it. 

“Fine.”  
“And I’m going to carry your stuff.”

Ollie couldn’t even retort, trying to create a little distance between them so he could regain his composure. He led Arlo back to the entrance platform, skirting around it’s edge until it was nearly the same height as their floor. He stepped up and onto it, heading towards the mine exit. 

“Sun hasn’t gone down too much, still an hour before dinnertime, I assume. Any plans for the evening?” Arlo asked, walking beside Ollie with ease despite carrying his entire workload.

“Work, I think. I need to start on a frame.”  
“Much less exciting than mining.”  
“Yeah. It’s the least enjoyable task I’ve had to learn so far. The attention to detail required makes my head spin. Some days I just can’t sit still long enough to finish. I have to take a break, take a walk…”  
“I hear you. None of my hobbies are detail-oriented. Not enough freedom in stuff like that.”  
“It has to be done, though, so I’ll do it.”  
“Commendable. You’re a solid guy. I’ve learned so much about you today. I’ll consider myself lucky.”

Ollie let out a dismissive snort as they approached town square, feeling a yawn and stretch coming on. Both arms above his head, he slid a hand around the other wrist, hinging at the hip to open the muscles up his side. Mid-yawn he noticed long blonde hair past the large fountain centerpiece, dropping his limbs back to his side quickly in an attempt to wallflower. 

“You okay?” Arlo asked, coming up beside him.  
“Yeah, sorry. We’re almost there.”  
“I know…” Arlo said with a small chuckle. “I can see your place from here.”  
“Let’s just keep going.”  
“… Alright.”

Trying to walk normally felt like a burden all of a sudden. Gust had probably caught sight of him by now, staring him down from across the way. He could feel those eyes boring into his back, could nearly picture the look on Gust’s face when he decided he was being avoided. Just under the welcome arch he dared a glance over his shoulder. False alarm: Gust was deep in conversation with Albert. He let out a short breath, feeling some of the nervous excitement leave his body.

“You sure you’re okay?”  
“What? Oh, sorry- yeah. I’m fine. Just, glad to be home.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Arlo change. He was an inch taller, his chin lifted slightly, the relaxed expression he’d been wearing, hardening. Ollie looked up at him, concerned.

“Are _you_ okay?”  
“Mmhmm.”  
“Are you lying?”  
“Are _you_ lying?”

Ollie stopped walking, facing the redhead.

“No? What would I be lying about?”

Arlo didn’t answer, blinking down at him.

“Don’t do that,” Ollie said weakly, finding it hard to hold his gaze.  
“Don’t do what?”  
“Your, work face.”  
“My work face?”  
“Yeah, you know, all cold and calculating. Like you’re about to interrogate me.”

Arlo’s eyes rolled away as he turned, beginning to walk again.

“I’m not going to interrogate you,” he said quietly, and soon Ollie had matched his pace. “I’m sorry if I have a work face. I’m not using it against you on purpose.”  
“Did I do something?”  
“I saw you look over your shoulder back there. Pair that with your huff, your… weird responses. I know you were uncomfortable. I understand we aren’t close, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Although Arlo said it with confidence, he had trailed off enough that Ollie could put the puzzle pieces together. They neared his fence and he put a hand out to reach for the front gate latch, pulling it towards him.

“It’s not really pertinent to you. It’s not even important. I’m not keeping anything from you, there’s just… not a reason to tell you anything. About my life.”  
“Sure.”

Ollie opened the gate and turned to face the taller man who was gently dropping his things on the grass between them.

“It’s trivial matters. Not worth anyone’s breath.”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“I’m sorry if you felt, I don’t know... that I’m hiding things from you.”  
“What’s there to hide? Like you said, you don’t have to tell me about your life. I guess it’s just in my nature to be curious. Can’t help it.”  
“I just don’t want you to be upset with me.”

Arlo laughed then, a hand on his chest before he softened.

“I’m far from upset. Talk about trivial matters, there’s hardly anything to be mad about. I’m sorry I tried to force your hand.”  
“What? No, it’s understandable. Like you said, curious nature and… work face.”  
“I never said work face. I’ve never actually heard anyone say that before.”

Ollie pursed his lips, looking away uncomfortably.

“Not that I mind it. It’s probably true, anyways. I can’t be friendly to everyone. Imagine if I had to deal with Huss and Tuss, like this.” Arlo quickly forced a huge grin, awkwardly opening his eyes wide, batting his eyelashes. It was so surprising that Ollie found himself laughing, raising a hand over his mouth.  
  
“That bad, huh?”  
“Arlo, gee… that is not a good look on you.”  
“Just wanted to leave on a better note. See you smile again.”

Ollie was certainly smiling after that, trying hard to stop himself, looking down like a bashful lamb.

“Just so you know, I actually liked learning about your life today. I know you want to _keep it in the past_ and handle your own affairs, but... if you ever want to tell me about your favorite color and the constellation you always look for when stargazing, I’m all ears.”

Arlo shrugged and Ollie lifted both hands to his face, pressing fingers against his temples. His emotions the last few days had been flip-flopping like landed salmon. He didn’t know how much more he could take before he exploded in nervous giggles or had to scream into the void.

“I’m curious, you’re interesting. Not a bad mix.”  
“Thanks, Arlo.”

The redhead dipped his chin, fingers hooking into belt loops as Ollie began picking up his backpack and pipe, shouldering everything without much trouble. When he stood again he wet his lips, aware that no one had said anything and time was beginning to stretch awkwardly.

“Right, well…”  
“Right, yeah.”  
“Should get going.”  
“Yeah, me too.”

When they finally departed eachother, they were both smiling. Ollie couldn’t help but clench his jaw to stop himself from announcing his excitement to the world.


	5. Murder

It had to be done. He'd already spent two days wasting time with Gust and a few hours with Arlo. The Dee Dee Transport promised to Mayor Gale was nearing its deadline, and the new appliance he'd promised Martha was just a blueprint and an untouched pile of bronze. Today was a day to grind. Today, the sheep and the cows would receive ample attention, the crops would be fertilized, and he'd be on top of his furnaces until something was ready to work with. As it was, he had rubber fruit melting, near ready to be shaped around the steel wheelbase created a week ago. 

The day went by in a blur of hyperfocus; bathroom and snack breaks were all but forgotten between projects. When he finally sat down on the edge of his assembly station, munching an apple, he realized the bare parts of his arms were streaked with soot. Martha’s oven would only need an extra day to attach the door and add some circuitry. The Dee Dee Transport was sitting by his front gate, ready to be picked up by Albert or Presley or whoever wanted it. He looked up at the setting sun with a crunch and a happy sigh, enjoying pink and blue sky as it swirled above Emily’s place, the feeling of accomplishment outweighing his tired body and mind. To top it all off, Pinky had joined him, rubbing against his leg with a greeting meow. This was turning into a life he could see himself wanting for a long time.

Not wanting to lose his focus, he spent the evening fishing. Trekking out across the field towards Amber Island, he plopped himself down beside the bridge with a handful of bait and a half-sized metal storage container. It was about nine o’clock when he noticed movement down the path and two ginger siblings waved hello.

_So soon? I saw him only yesterday…_

“Fishing, Ollie?”

Gust’s voice. Ollie lifted his rod slightly, reeling in the line.

“Thought I’d stock up for next week. Perhaps attempt a new recipe or two.”

“You cook?”

Ollie set the rod down, turning to face the blonde. He wasn’t alone, Ginger stood beside him, smiling shyly.

“I do. I love cooking. Very relaxing.”

“Huh. That’s perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Well, I love eating.”

Ollie brushed his gloves off on his thighs, chuckling softly.

“Right. Hi, Ginger.”

“Hi, Ollie.”

“You actually enjoy spending time with this guy?” he asked playfully, motioning at Gust. Ginger laughed politely, clasping her hands behind her back.

“My brother is good company.”

“Of course I am.”

“Of course he is,” Ollie said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“We didn’t mean to interrupt,” she continued, motioning at his fishing rod.

“It’s fine, I should pack up anyway.”

“Oh! We could walk you home! Gust?”

Ollie met the other man’s eyes, amazed when the blonde looked away first.

“Yeah, we could.”

“Excellent,” Ollie murmured, picking up his belongings. When he joined them on the path, Gust set the pace.

“How would you feel if we dropped Ginger off, first?”

“But Gust-“ came the soft protest.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea to take a shortcut through the long grass at this hour, which means we’d have to go into the plaza, regardless.”

“Fine…” she huffed, and Ollie felt a twinge of sympathy for her. This was the _perfect_ hour to adventure through any forest or meadow, so long as you had a trusty weapon and a partner at your back. By the time they’d reached the far end of Central Plaza, Ollie felt quite comfortable walking between the two. They joked around him, always onto a new topic in a natural flow of conversation. It was only when Ginger brought up another family dinner idea that he stood up straight, the soft, happy aura beginning to dissipate.

“Sorry, a family dinner?”

“For Gust’s birthday.”

“You do remember my birthday, don’t you?” Gust asked slyly, and Ollie let out a noise of exasperation, a soft snort and half an eyeroll. 

“How could I forget?”

“We do a family dinner for every birthday in our family, it’s sort of tradition. Gust often invites Albert, but I don’t see why you couldn’t come too.”

“I’d much rather invite Ollie than Albert.”

“You can’t just uninvite Albert one year, that’s not tradition,” Ollie pointed out, grateful not to be the only guest on the list. 

“True…”

“My brother loves attention, I say the more the merrier,” Ginger giggled, and Gust reached out to flick her shoulder gently, smiling.

“What should I bring?” 

“That depends, I suppose. Do you want a nice answer, or an honest answer?”

“A nice answer,” Ginger piped in, giving her brother a look.

“An honest answer,” Ollie said with a nod, shuffling his rod and storage between his hands to give his encumbered arm a break.

“I want you to cook me a dish of blade fish. They’re hard to come by, somewhere out in the Collapsed Wastelands, but I absolutely love the taste.”

“Gust, you can’t ask him something like that, it’s dangerous!”

“It’s Ollie. If he can’t or won’t do something, he’ll let me know.”

“Blade fish,” Ollie said speculatively, his mind immediately going to the dishes he knew how to make. “I think I can make this work…”

“Ollie, you can say no,” Ginger reminded him.

Gust slapped a hand onto Ollie’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Like I said, Ginger. Ollie wouldn’t accept if he didn’t think he could do it. That’s what I like about him.”

While Ollie tilted his head to meet the taller man’s eyes, Ginger was murmuring something about _Gust’s abrasive nature_ and _the way he never holds his tongue_. The brunette lifted his shoulder to signal for the blonde to let go, relieved when he did. They were already up the stairs and starting down the laneway to the siblings’ house, the picket fence coming into view.

“You must put Gust in his place once in a while, Ollie…”

“What place, dearest sister?” Gust asked playfully through grit teeth, leaning towards her.

“Gust is harmless,” Ollie replied.

“No, he’s not. He steps on toes often enough, and he doesn’t like to clean up his messes.”

“What? That’s not true,” Gust retorted, his eyebrows quickly pulling down in the middle.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“ _Yes, it is.”_

“ _Regardless_ ,” Ollie interrupted, pointing at the house beside them, “isn’t training Gust your father’s responsibility?”

“It is certainly a parent’s responsibility to guide their children’s behavior.”

“I do not need to be trained; I’m older than both of you. Go inside, Ginger, you’re being silly.”

The two boys watched Ginger step up to the door and open it, turning to wave goodbye. She blew Ollie a friendly kiss, giving her brother an exaggerated glare before she disappeared inside. Gust laughed at that, hands going into his pant pockets as he turned.

“She’s a wildfire. You’re lucky you aren’t her brother.”

“She seems nice, though. Calm, and gentle.”

“Well, you’re not exactly the best judge of character. You called _me_ harmless.”

“I was just playing along.”

“Oh yeah?” They were walking again, towards the hill leading down to the park near the plaza where Isaac normally sat with his boardgame. “So, how would you describe me then?”

“It’s hard to say. I don’t know you well enough.”

“But you know Ginger better?”

Ollie pursed his lips, rubbing them together as he tried to come up with a response. He finally smiled, shaking his head slightly.

“Right. You’re right, I definitely know you better. If we had to go with first impressions, you seemed annoying.”

“Annoying?” Gust asked in a tone that was mock offended, paired with a hand to the chest. 

“Yeah, annoying. You’re not my type.”

“Surely you mean that in the past tense.”

Ollie opened his mouth, the hesitation in his reply making Gust sigh loudly. When he closed his mouth again, the other man was quiet, smiling at the ground as he walked.

“I did say _first_ impressions. It’s changed since.”

“To less annoying?”

“To less annoying,” Ollie chuckled, nodding. “You’re okay.”

“Moving up on the friendship scale, I’ll take it. From annoying to less annoying, and it only took a week. Imagine what I could do with a month.”

“You have a month. At least a month. I have no plans of leaving, I’m beginning to love Portia. I almost wish my family had moved here, as a unit.”

“Your family? I realize I know very little about them.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I told Arlo: my sisters and I were raised by my Aunt Kendra. Dad took off, and I highly speculate he wasn’t around to conceive my siblings.”

“I don’t know what’s worse, that your father slept with another behind your mother’s back, or that you’ve become close enough to Arlo to share such important details.”

Ollie felt a tinge of excitement for some reason, and as he allowed the feeling to expand he realized Gust sounded jealous and it was kind of… flattering. 

“It was actually my mother who did the sleeping around, and, Arlo and I, I like to think we’re becoming close.”

“Becoming, mm,” Gust murmured, and Ollie could see the gears turning in his head with the same ferocity as Sonia’s. Hopefully the blonde was less imaginative. “I’d love to believe you mean _as friends_.”

“I’m sure you do.”

He could feel Gust examining him from the side, probably hoping he’d turn and look at him. Ollie didn’t though, staring straight ahead, smiling proudly.

“What’s so good about Arlo?”

“Besides his rank and status?”

“That’s what you like about him?”

“No, I’m not that shallow,” his tone sharp. “It’s the moral compass behind it. He cares about people, he protects people… He knows what he believes in and he fights for it from the moment he wakes up to the moment he’s in bed. He’s strong, and not just physically. In a battle of wits, he’d be unbeatable. I admire that about him, and so much more.”

Gust didn’t respond right away, and when Ollie noticed movement from the corner of his eye he turned his head to watch. Gust had pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed, even from the side.

“You’ve given him a hero complex, but he doesn’t deserve it.”

“What do you have against Arlo?”

More silence. Ollie began to feel curiosity bubbling up from his chest to his throat, but he held his questions, letting Gust ruminate his thoughts.

“I have nothing against Arlo. I do think, however, that you’re giving him too much credit. Arlo might be a brave, strong, disciplined man, but he’s not perfect.”

“Nobody is.”

“You say that, but I understand what it’s like to have a role model that you idolize. You forget they have flaws and weaknesses. They’re just, people.”

Their feet touched grass and Ollie suddenly remembered the fishing gear, his shoulder feeling heavy from carrying everything on one side for so long. As he shifted it all over to his other arm, Gust stopped walking, holding out a hand.

“May I help you?”

“What? No, it’s fine. It’s not that heavy.”

“Alright.” He was leading them again, Ollie bouncing to fall in step beside him. “Arlo is the type of man anyone would be prone to trust as soon as they meet him, so long as they’re on the same side of the coin. Good versus bad. Moral versus immoral. Such things are all subjective perspectives, and to someone in this world, Arlo could be considered in a negative light. The Civil Corps, they keep Portia safe… but, when it comes down to it, they’re just playing god.”

“I think that’s an exaggeration.”

“Mm,” Gust agreed, unfolding his arms slightly, resting his chin on the knuckles of his closed fist thoughtfully. “Perhaps. It’s not as if they are culling people with different opinions; but, they do choose who to jail, who to investigate, and who to judge for our larger society. They are the gatekeepers of black and white.”

“Have the Civil Corps made trouble for Portia in the past?”

“No, but tell me Ollie, do you really believe anything in the human experience is black and white? Do you really think anything can be certainly good or certainly bad in every situation?”

“Well, yes. For instance, murder is bad. Stealing is bad. Killing your neighbor’s chickens is bad.”

“But can you not imagine a time when murder may be necessary even for a ‘moral’ person?”

“What are you getting at?”

“After seeing you one afternoon with me, in a jealous rage Arlo decides to break into my manor and attack me in my sleep. As we tousle in my bedroom he has me nearly pinned, a knife in his hand, aimed for my throat. Call it pure adrenaline but I am able to steal the knife from him and plunge it into his chest. He dies.”

Ollie stopped walking this time, facing Gust with an expression of disbelief.

“Would you then say that murder is bad? That it did not have a purpose, to save a life?”

“I… first of all, that is impossible to properly visualize.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Well… I can’t. I could never picture Arlo doing that.”

Gust rolled his eyes, mouth opening in a sigh. His gaze landed somewhere to Ollie’s right, his disappointment visible in their depths.

“Imagine, then, that a tourist has run out of money while visiting Portia. In her desperation to survive, she begins stealing from Emily’s coop every night. Only a few eggs so as not to get noticed. Would you then say that stealing is bad? Did it not have a purpose, to save a life, or provide for a person’s survival?”

“But why wouldn’t she have asked Emily to share? That should have been her first step.”

“Fine, imagine she asked Emily to share that morning and Emily said no. The lady tourist decides to steal anyways. She has not eaten in four days, she has been drinking water from the horse trough at your workshop while you are out gathering materials, and she has been sleeping on one of the café tables beneath the umbrellas to shelter from the rain. Stealing from Emily’s farm becomes a viable option for survival until something else comes along. Can you see that stealing could be considered right in a situation such as this?”

“I’d have a hard time believing it when all of Portia is so giving. Someone would have helped her out; Dawa would have fished for her. Arlo and Remington would have gladly scavenged for her. Django would have offered her a temporary position at his restaurant.” 

“Nevermind. I do think your ability to find solutions for problems is admirable, but you aren’t getting my point. ”

“Gust, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting a conversation like this.”

“My apologies for springing it on you.”

They were just past the plaza fountain, nearly under the welcome arch. Ollie looked up at the concrete, swallowing thickly, unsure what to say.

“Do you mind walking the rest of the way on your own? I need to go for a walk.”

“I… yeah.”

He felt defeated. Was Gust just hard to get along with? Would they always have such awkward moments together? 

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon. Be sure of that.”

Ollie hadn’t considered Gust within reach, but the man was gently picking up his free hand, lifting it, placing a kiss on the knuckles like some sort of romance novel character. By the time the blonde was out of sight, Ollie was still staring in his direction, his brain fried and his feelings jumbled in his stomach.


	6. See You Next Fall

He couldn’t get out of bed. 

Sheets pulled up to his chin, fingers curled into the fabric. He’d been staring at the ceiling for half an hour, unable to forget the scene with Gust from the night before. It was something he hadn’t spent much time contemplating before. Black and white. Right and wrong. Morality and its apparent weaknesses. Gust had a point, but it was hard to figure out what, or why he’d decided to bring all of that up. Was he just trying to make him dislike Arlo? 

If that was the case, then Gust was a gross person. Manipulative and selfish, seeking only to fulfill his own agenda. It would make sense since Gust was openly vying for a connection with him. That kiss on his hand... It was so natural on the blonde’s side, so surprising for the builder. Who did stuff like that? Gust was fearless.  
And intelligent. Ollie felt overshadowed by the other man’s intellect. Did the man often sit and contemplate such deep subjects? Did many other people?   
A sound at the foot of the bed caught his attention, claws on metal. _Scrape, scrape, scrape._ He closed his eyes.

“Pinky, no.”  
 _Scrape, scrape, scrape._  
“Pinky, please. No.”  
 _Scrape, scrape, scrape._  
“Fine. I’m up. You win.”

Pinky would have to be his excuse to swing his feet to the floor and stand today. She was hungry, and he had fresh fish to share. When he opened the lid of his metal container she stuck a dainty cat paw in, scooping out a bright green frog fish onto the wooden floorboard below. Ollie wiped a hand over his face slowly at the new mess, sighing as she picked it up and carried it away. It was hard to be mad at her, and he didn’t want to do anything to damage their developing relationship. Better to wipe up fish slime than lose his newest cuddle buddy.

It was Sunday, which meant everyone would be heading to the church soon. The plaza would be mostly empty and it would be harder to bump into people. He was feeling particularly antisocial with so much on his mind and seeing Gust again so soon would make his brain short circuit. Pulling on work clothes, he headed outside to feed his animals and finish Martha’s project.

Twelve o’clock. The cows were mooing at the final turn of a bolt and he pressed the back of his forearm to his forehead, shielding himself from the sun. He’d finally saved enough to build his new shed only two weeks ago and between the growing crops, the black and white hoofed wonders in their pen, and his upgraded assembly and workshop bench, he flushed with pride. If only his dad could see him now. 

It would take half an hour to reach the Civil Corps building if he walked fast. He needed help carrying the new oven into town, one strong person would do. He slipped his backpack on, pushing through his front gate, heading out. There was a list of things he wanted to buy to make life easier, but the white horse he’d been eyeing in MacDonald’s stable was way out of his price range just yet. Somehow telling himself that walking everywhere was good for his health was easier than parting with a few hundred gols a week to rent a ride. 

When he pushed the Civil Corps door open he was surprised to see the entire team standing around the front desk. Remington was leaning over Arlo’s scribbled handwriting, Sam watching from a foot away. They all looked up when he entered, his eyebrows raised as the ‘deer in headlights’ feeling set in.

“Good morning,” he offered when no one said anything.

“Ollie, good morning.”

“Morning, Ollie.”

“Hey, Ollie.”

He smiled at Arlo’s response, feeling like it was the friendliest. 

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”

“No.”

Sam’s response was curt and Ollie reached a hand up, scratching at his cheek awkwardly.

“What can we do for you?” Remington asked, nodding his head.

“I just need help carrying something heavy down to Martha’s. If anyone has a pair of extra hands..?”

The three looked between them. It was clear Arlo had been chosen when he “tsked” and stood, giving his partners defeated looks as he joined Ollie, pushing the door back open so they could leave.

“Don’t go without me,” the redhead demanded, pointing at Sam for a moment before he waved goodbye. Ollie followed him out, curious.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. We made a bit of a discovery yesterday. We’d like to check it out before anyone else does, make sure the area is secure.”

As Ollie headed to the path again, Arlo cleared his throat.

“Ollie?”

He stopped, swiveling to look at the taller man.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you going?”

“To my place.”

“We don’t need to walk. We’ve got Spacer.”

Brown eyes blinked slowly until he understood, snapping his fingers together.

“Right. You have a horse. We don’t need to walk.”

“Gods no. I wouldn’t get anything done if I walked everywhere. Time is precious. Come on.” Arlo motioned for the brunette to join him at the stable outside of the corps office, untying his horse from the bar. When he pulled the animal out into the sunshine, Ollie let out an impressed whistle.

“I’ve never seen him up close.”

“Real beauty, isn’t he?”

He really was. A clean, shimmering white coat and bright, intelligent eyes. Ollie instinctively held out his hand for the animal to examine, happy to receive a soft snort in return.

“You’ve ridden before?” Arlo asked, hoisting himself up and over, settling down comfortably, both hands on the reigns. Ollie nodded.

“It’s been a while though.”

“Oh? All right. You’re going to sit right behind me. Put a foot in there,” he pointed, “and grab my hand.” 

Ollie did as he said. 

“Now lift yourself up. You can use my shoulder for balance, whatever you need.”

It was shaky, but he made it. He tried to copy Arlo’s mounting process, swinging his leg, squeezing the other man’s fingers until he was sitting comfortably. He let go, and Arlo glanced over his shoulder.

“You’ll probably want to hold on.”

“How?”

The redhead grabbed Ollie’s wrist, pulling it forward, wrapping it around his torso so the builder’s hand was on his chest.

“Hold onto me.”

He slowly brought his other arm around the man until they were pressed against each other, turning his head awkwardly, trying not to make this into anything. It was simply business, a means of transportation.

“You shouldn’t double up too often. It’s hard on the horse. I’m not too worried about Spacer, and you’re lucky I still have the double saddle setup from last night. Until you’ve ridden your own horse for a while, I don’t recommend this. Got it?”

“I didn’t know.”

“That’s why I just told you. Now this might be uncomfortable for a while. We’ll go slow.”

Ollie was surprised at how quickly they made it to his property. They’d picked up speed as they neared Peach Plaza, a gentle trot that allowed a few people to wave their way. Sonja was one of them, and her knowing smile made his entire body grow warm, his fingers curling into Arlo’s jacket material as he looked away. When they dismounted, Ollie headed straight for his assembly station, trying not to think about how Arlo’s fingers had slipped between his when he’d offered him a hand to steady himself. It was only a moment, and the other man probably hadn’t even noticed, but the butterflies in his throat were making it hard to breathe.

“That looks great. I can’t say I’ve ever seen an oven like that before.”

“I just took some old tech and mixed it with some new.”

“How does it work?”

“Well, there’s a bit of an electrical component here. Anyone using it should be able to better control the temperature provided they put a power stone here,” he said, pointing at a small crevice at the side of the metal contraption. “It’ll work without a power stone too, but not as well.”

“Interesting. Shall we?”

Ollie let out a loud sigh, rubbing his palms together before he squatted down, finding an edge to hold on either side. When he looked up, he looked straight into Arlo’s eyes, the rest of the man’s face hidden behind the oven wall.

“Not so bad.”

“It’s, lighter than I expected,” he agreed, turning his gaze ahead, beginning to walk with the redhead towards the front gate.

“That, or you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Mr. I-Love-To-Walk-Around-With-Every-Tool-I-Own-Strapped-To-My-Back.”

“I swear, I’m not that strong.”

“I beg to differ.”

“If I flexed any muscle next to you it would be merely half the size.”

There was a muffled laugh and he felt the weight between them shift slightly, then balance out again.

“Half the size. I’d love to compare.”

“Why? Why can’t you accept I’m smaller than you?”

“I just, need to see it with my own eyes.”

Ollie was suddenly glad they were so focused on what lay ahead, knowing if they could see each other right now his stomach would flip. If he was lucky, he could tell himself this wasn’t flirting and maybe his hands wouldn’t get so sweaty he’d lose his grip.

“Don’t be weird, Arlo.”

“What’s weird? I just want to get an idea of what I’m up against.”

“Up against? What, were we going to fight or something?”

“I’ve been waiting for the chance, yes!”

“You want to fight me?”

“Unless you’re not interested.”

It wasn’t working. He was definitely getting clammy. They were entering the Plaza again, carrying Martha’s new appliance past Nora and Lee’s small group by the fountain. 

“Why would we fight?”

“It’s really not that weird, Ollie.”

“I just don’t get it. I’ve never squared up against a friend before.”

“We do it all the time in the Corps for practice. How else do you get stronger?”

_How else do you get pinned down by the hottest guy in town, you mean,_ Ollie thought to himself, his mouth beginning to feel dry. He licked his lips, pressing them together, clearing his throat. Thankfully everyone was steering clear, giving them ample room to maneuver, out of earshot.

“Is it like, bare knuckle boxing?”

“I’d prefer a ground style martial art, if you don’t mind.”

“Jujutsu? Muy Thai?”

“Whatever you want. I can handle anything you throw at me.”

“So, you guys just, take turns wrestling each other then?”

“Every week.”

They were past Django’s now, and Ollie felt like he was running out of energy to carry the oven, his mind straying further and further from their task.

“Where would we do this? At my place?”

“I was thinking we could ride to the waterfall. There’s a tree by the river where the ground is quite flat. I’ve always wanted to wrestle there.”

“I’ll be at a disadvantage. You know the terrain.”

“If you’re so scared, I’ll give myself a handicap,” Arlo chuckled, and although Ollie couldn’t see him, he could hear the smile. “We can skip the takedown. You can just start on top of me.”

Strength was fading, fast… his shoulders felt heavy beneath the metal box and he bit his lower lip, looking up to the sky. 

“Ollie?”

“Y-yeah?” he replied, breathless.

“You okay over there? Should we take a break?”

“No, we’re almost there. We can make it. Can we just, change the subject?”

A sound of surprise, then an amused hum.

“Of course.”

“Great.”

“So do you prefer top or bottom?”

His boot scuffed the ground heavily and he lurched forward, yelping as he struggled to regain his balance. Arlo’s laughter filled the air until Martha greeted them, her nervous face coming into view as she rushed to Ollie’s side.

“Ollie? Can I help?”

“Martha, no, I’m sorry I just _tripped_.” He raised up on his tip toes slightly, shooting Arlo a heavy glare, a shiver down his back when the redhead returned his gaze with sly eyes.

“Goodness! Here, let me get the door. Please don’t push yourselves, you can take a break you know.”

“We know,” Arlo replied happily as they followed her up the front steps and inside. The two of them placed it on the kitchen floor where the old one had been, fitting it between the old stove marks etched into the wood.

“Did someone help you discard the old one?” Ollie asked after he stood, making sure not to glance at his working partner, unsure if he would be able to hold his composure any longer if their eyes met again.

“Yes, Paulie, bless that man. He told me he could use the scrap.”

“Ahh, that’s great then.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Ollie.”

“It’s no worries, Martha.” He was already kneeling down, fishing pliers from his toolbelt, hoping to hook up the vent at the back of the oven into the wall. 

“Thank you, Arlo. It’s so nice to have strong men to rely on.”

“Ollie is quite strong, isn’t he!”

“Perhaps stronger than you,” she teased, patting Arlo’s arm.

“Hear that, Ollie?”

“No,” he replied as he stood up, replacing the tool into its pouch, hands going to his hips as he turned to face them. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Get your ears checked,” Arlo mused, crossing his arms contently.

“I’ll have your first payment soon. Is there anything I can get you while you’re here?”

“No, we’re okay. That’s kind of you.”

“You sure?”

“I do love your baking, but I ate recently.”

It was a lie, but there was no way he was sticking around with all these feelings tingling up and down his body. 

“I understand. Stop by soon for some fresh baked bread, the both of you.”

Arlo gave her a two-fingered salute and a nod, letting himself out. Ollie nodded as well, following, relief washing over him when he touched sidewalk. The part of him that wanted to hide began walking towards the edge of the plaza past the Portian Times, making a beeline for the open meadow and the fifty-foot wall.

“When are you free next?”

Ollie didn’t look behind him, his fingers subconsciously curling his hands into fists as he struggled to find his voice, his mouth drier than ever.

“Whenever.”

“So now?”

His head tilted up to the sky again and he let out a slow, silent breath, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face.

“Right now? To fight?”

“Right now. Good a time as any.”

Whether it was nerves or a cold breeze, a shiver ran up his arms like an electric shock. He steeled up, trying to hide his excitement.

“Sure. Lead the way.”


	7. Specific Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always write chapters while listening to songs on repeat to channel certain emotions/ideas. Today's vibe: Vanic X Zella Day - Hypnotic .

Walking through Central Plaza with Arlo behind him felt like a silent game of predator and prey. He was being hunted by the Civil Corps leader, maintaining his composure as they passed through the entrance gate and set foot in the short grass off the path. He could see Papa Bear’s house through the trees on their left, the redhead escaping his peripheral vision as he surveyed the green hills ahead and to the sides. No one was holding a sword to his back but there was a tension in the air that made it impossible to stop or slow down. He wanted to get out of the public eye _now._

As they neared the riverbank close to the bridge his pulse quickened. The scuttling of Mad Crab legs masked the sound of Arlo’s footsteps behind him. Veering around the wildlife and sticking close to the rock wall, Ollie led them towards the waterfall, happy for the privacy from the cliff face and the low traffic forest across the way. In the farthest corner beneath the large tree Arlo had mentioned, Ollie turned and faced him, tossing his backpack a few feet away by some small rocks.

“Come at me,” he said nervously, loosening his limbs, a small bounce in his step as he eyed the taller man.

“Do you still want that handicap?”

Ollie wanted to laugh at the other’s joke but he was too tense, his mind reeling as he looked for a plausible first move. Arlo was taller, stronger, and probably faster. The wrestling practice he had was strictly roughhousing with friends and family; he was in over his head and he knew it. 

“Your eyes betray you.” Arlo’s voice caught his attention, his hands raised, fingers spread slightly. “If you look where you’re going, you’ll never beat me.” 

They circled each other, the nervous energy growing until Ollie reached out and made contact, grabbing for the redhead’s wrist. Arlo parried him, grinning.

“You scared?”

“I know I’m not as strong as you.”

“Prove it,” Arlo exclaimed as he leapt forward, closing the distance between them, fingers curling around the builder’s collar. Ollie felt himself being pulled down sideways, a solid force against the back of his leg telling him that he was about to be tripped. He anchored his foot and pushed forward, throwing the redhead back, creating space to breathe.

“I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“You’re small, Ollie, but you’re strong.”

“Why are you so obsessed with finding that out?”

Arlo leapt forward again and Ollie braced himself, struggling to keep his balance as the other fought through his defenses. Arlo grabbed the builder’s thigh, trying to lift him and sweep him off his feet, only half successful as Ollie managed to stay upright, keeping his free limb out of reach. With his cheek pressed against Arlo’s collarbone and his arms around either of the man’s biceps, the excitement of battle was becoming a realization of their closeness and _was this really happening?_ Each twist and turn of the torso raised Ollie’s confidence, enough that he reached down and grabbed for Arlo’s thigh, causing the other to change position to protect himself. In a moment of victory he pulled the redhead towards him, hoping for a takedown as he hooked his foot around Arlo’s calf and tugged.

Suddenly he was falling. Arlo had used his momentum against him, pushing him backwards, the same direction Ollie had been pulling. They tumbled down, Arlo above him, a knee on either side. Instinct told Ollie to wrap his legs around the bigger man, a desperate attempt not to give up, crossing his ankles behind Arlo’s back so he could pull with all of his might. It worked, knocking Arlo off balance enough that Ollie freed his arms, reaching up to grab at the other’s jacket, arms circling the other’s neck as he fought to hold him in place. 

“Shit,” Arlo hissed as he struggled to regain the upper hand, wrapped up in Ollie like a snake. The more Arlo tried to lift himself from Ollie’s embrace, the more Ollie squeezed against him, pressing their stomachs together, hitching his groin up towards Arlo’s like a dog in heat. The warmth of being right against the civil corps leader and the smell of his opponent’s sweat made his fingers feel weak, their grip waning on his clothing, his teeth clenched as they writhed in a tangle of grunts and growls. It was Arlo who won in the end, managing to worm his arms under Ollie’s and force them above his head, leaning forward until their chests touched so the smaller builder was pinned.

“You almost had me.”

Ollie couldn’t respond, breathing heavily, his muscles still tensed as he attempted to move. It wasn’t going to happen though; he was too tired, and Arlo had gravity on his side.

“But it’s settled now.”

“What’s settled?” Ollie asked, feeling light-headed from the shortness of breath and the intense exertion. He couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, still squeezing his legs into Arlo’s ribs because he wanted the closeness and the _heat_ , the _throbbing_ of his pulse as it raced through his body-

“I’m bigger, so I get to make the rules.”

There was a moment of silence where Ollie realized what was about to happen. The waterfall, the Sea Urchins, the breeze through the grass- everything deadened when Arlo’s blue eyes darkened. It was as if he could feel the other’s lust meeting his, the look of hunger telling him what he already knew: fighting for dominance was the biggest turn on in the book, and may the victor enjoy his spoils of war.

xx.

Waterfall. He could hear a waterfall. It grew louder, slowly. He cracked an eye open, peeping through blades of grass, the bouncy bodies of Sea Urchins blurred off in the distance.

_Where, am I…?_

He opened both eyes to ease his worry, noting the tree, the far riverbank, and most interestingly, a white-sleeved arm wrapped around him, holding him close to what was definitely a warm and sleepy Arlo. There was a soft groan and the warmth left him as Arlo rolled away, giving him room to sit up and fix his ponytail, smoothing hair back from his forehead. 

“I should be the one sleeping,” Ollie muttered fondly, shaking his head.

It had only been about twenty minutes when Arlo found him in the river.

“Hey!”

Ollie turned, waving at the approaching redhead, smiling as the other began pulling his shirt off over his head. Shimmying out of his boxers, Arlo waded in from the riverbank to meet the builder, hugging himself as the temperature difference hit.

“Hey,” Ollie replied, scooping water over his shoulders. He was waist-deep in the slow current, his feet firmly planted on unseen rocks.

“Were you as messy as I was?” Arlo asked, looking down at his stomach. As he rubbed certain spots with his fingers Ollie looked down too, examining his own.

“Had to wash my face a few times,” Ollie admitted, finding a stray patch of dried cum near his hip that he began scrubbing at. 

“Pretty risky to hand out blowjobs so close to town. All it takes is a wandering villager to come around the bend and see for themselves.”

“Does that excite you?”

“Greatly.” 

Arlo’s grin seemed to turn feral when he admitted it. It was uncomfortable, the knowledge that someone could walk in on them at their most vulnerable. Violating, really, to think about being caught.

“You’re fun,” Arlo told him, splashing him playfully.

“Thanks,” Ollie replied dully, refusing himself a glance at the path they’d entered from.

“I mean, really fun. The way you fought back every inch of the way… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What, am I supposed to let you do whatever you want?”

“No,” Arlo exclaimed, running a hand through his wet hair. “That’s exactly what I _don’t_ want. It was hot, holding you down, letting you tire yourself out.”

Ollie couldn’t help but smirk, slightly.

“Yeah, you like that?”

“Couple moments I thought you were going to get away from me.”

Arlo was looking more exciteable, eyeing Ollie’s naked torso again.

“The way you looked when I was holding your arms down with my knees… was that too painful?”

Ollie shook his head, chuckling.

“Well, good, because it was _hot_. Can’t say I’ve ever held someone down and face fucked them like that before.”

“Can’t say I’ve been held down like that before.”

The redhead was wading closer, hungry. The recurring thought that someone could catch them in the act made Ollie want to back away and leave, hightail it home to the comfort of his four walls and the lock on the door. 

“In the future, Ollie, you’ll tell me if I go too far, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that, obviously you enjoy pain, and I certainly know how to give it to you.”

That hit the right buttons. A tinge of horniness was sweeping the scary thoughts of an unwanted audience away. The man was speaking his language: an ancient, buried language he had thought would never be resurrected. 

“But I’ll respect your boundaries. You just have to tell me to stop, and I will.”

Arlo’s hands had found Ollie’s hips. He didn’t push them away, letting Arlo pull him closer.

“My safe word is please.”

“Please?” Arlo asked, his eyebrows coming together slightly in surprise. “Why?”

“Cause you will never hear me say please under any normal circumstances.”

The redhead scoffed.

“Not even if I ask you to beg?”

“I would never beg anyone for anything.”

“Fine, fine…” Arlo murmured, obviously disappointed. 

Ollie felt a rush of defensiveness at the reaction, bringing his fingers up to the taller man’s collarbones, tracing them gently.

“I’m sure you have others who can fulfill those specific desires.”

“Mm,” Arlo admitted, sliding his hand up Ollie’s side, gazing at his neck with a lust that dared Ollie’s back out of its hiding spot.

“It’s… surprising. I didn’t know you had it in you to be less than stoic. Here you are, drunk on a deadly sin, naked in the river with a man you hardly know.” Ollie stared straight ahead when Arlo’s lips touched his throat, watching the waterfall, keeping tabs on what direction the redhead was kissing in.

“We all have our vices,” Arlo chuckled, hot breath fanning against Ollie’s jaw. “I keep work and play quite separate.”

“As you should.”

“Listen, Ollie, before you go, I have one more problem I think you can solve.”

Ollie side-eyed red hair, following along when he felt Arlo’s hand grab his, moving them down until he felt what the other was getting at. He slipped his fingers around the hard dick, closing his eyes when teeth ghosted against his ear gently.

“I really don’t want to be mean, but-“

“I want you to be mean.”

It happened so fast. One second he was up against the sturdy frame of the other, the next he was gritting his teeth, weak beneath the pressure point Arlo had found in his shoulder. It was deadly, immobilizing, and as he gasped for a proper breath the other forced him to his knees, finding purchase on the slippery stones below. The redhead had him by the ponytail, guiding him to where he wanted, cupping the builder’s chin with his free hand so he couldn’t look away. He pulled at his restraints only slightly, a last minute effort to escape, then opened his mouth as if to accept his fate. Arlo filled the hole gladly, sliding his cock past Ollie’s lips, his fingertips pressing into the builder’s jaw at the first wave of pleasurable feeling. Ollie smiled around it, defiant eyes meeting the redhead’s. He hoped they clearly read, _do your worst_.


End file.
